


A Cordova's Aspiration

by MissyMae33



Category: Call of Cthulhu: Masks of Nyarlathotep, Call of Cthulhu: Path of Perdition (Web Series)
Genre: Cthulhu Ftagn, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27741199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissyMae33/pseuds/MissyMae33
Summary: The past events seen by one, Sybil Cordova have been an adventure. Good and bad, she wanted to succeed and pull through, even stronger and a tougher gal than when she started.But is it really that easy to forget? The aspiration to wracks her until it clouds her mind.And where else would it be more apparent than in dreams?
Kudos: 8





	A Cordova's Aspiration

_ “What was it like, Sybil Cordova..?” _

The memory was clear, the execution even clearer. But the feeling…. the feeling was fuzzy, like a memory wrapped in amnesia, wrapping around and suffocating like a snake. A blanket, something used for comfort and a knowing, calm, supporting hand on the shoulder to guide, and be a consistent arrow in the right direction. 

A blanket… turned sour. Something used at its stitches and threads, weaving a tale of sorrow, grief, and utter emptiness as it tangles and tangos with the fabric, bloodstained and tear stained. You feel it oh so much, especially then, didn’t you, Mrs. Cordova?

…

The memory was reoccurring and clear. The heat was blistering. The fire encasing the dining room, raging and reaching every inch of said room, like butter melting over a saucepan. Unrestrained, unrestricted, unreal. Unfortunately unbelievable as it unfolds tenfold and scatters as the tears shatter on the floor and unravels into more flames. More and more pain as the flesh and bones melt into nothing but ashes and stains on the floor, only to be eaten up later in the embers.

Embers...hot and luminous, partnering with the fire. The fire in her eyes, the fire in the room, the fire in the opal ring.

This girl is on fire, the soul flaming and furiously raging with dread. The fire and smoke poisoning her mind and heart, tears streaming but never extinguishing.

_ “Come and sit down, sweetheart. We have so much to talk about.” _

_ “It’s us, Sybil.” _

_ “Come, come, dear. We made supper for you.” _

Why was the dialogue comforting in a situation viewed only in the eyes of those invaded in nightmares?

Simple. It’s all sweet nothings.

Nothing but a nightmare, of course.

_ Your _ nightmare, Mrs. Cordova.

…

The memory was reoccurring, unsightly, and clear. The door, locked and tight. Nothing displaying beyond its hinges, but already displaying so much. Pieces of a puzzle, ready to scavenge for the last piece. Finding a clear picture, the silhouette in black and white finally coming in as full color, a baby kitten opening its eyes for the first time…

A key to a potential answer; a key to something not yet seen, but wanted for mystery had crawled up the backs of the 5 who stood before it; the key… to the door.

Reach, insert, and slip your wrist to the side. Hear the click of the lock replicate the click of his flesh. Withdraw, recollect, and start anew. Reach, grasp, and yet again, let your wrist turn. Feel the hatch slip away as it slinks back to its burrow, imprisoned and encased in wood, wood to knock on after prayers of safety and thought of “I bet it’s nothing. Jackson maybe only needs us for something little.”

Knock, knock. Can you hear the sound?

Is it Jame’s fist against the spruce, or the pounding and shattering of the window, letting the killers loose? Shattering...heh… like how they shattered his heart?

Spilling in the room, ten four into the room of 410. And upon entering, how many seconds had Jackson Elias been deceased…? Was it one hundred, two hundred…?

Four hundred-ten? Or maybe even more if you think hard enough. Is it possible?

I do think so. Don’t you, Mrs. Cordova?

…

The memory was reoccurring, unsightly, scarring, and clear. After something so brain wracking and unforgettable, something that she wishes she could erase from her mind, gouge her eyes out if she could. Jackson Elias, blood scattered and seeping into the mattress, like sponge soaking up a spill. His expression was scared, tense, and frozen in time, just like his formerly beating heart. 

What had happened to Jackson Elias? 

What was wrong with Jackson Elias?

_ Who killed Jackson Elias? _

The phrase once heard for many many times from times past, heating up again.

“Jackson Elias is in danger.”

Tsk, tsk, tsk. Deja vu. 

Blood stained the room, the walls, and even just the sight stained the eyes and mind.

The blur of the day, the discovery, the sleep, the funeral, and the plan to kick one woman’s…

Well, that’s what you wanted. 

But do children who throw a tantrum get what they want without consequences? No. 

I’m sure you have experience, Mrs. Cordova.

…

The memory was… was…

What was the memory,  _ really? _ Was it a dream, dancing in the mind and wrapping its enticing and cunning fingers in the strings that puppet the mind? Or was it reality, standing in the middle of the street as the world, kinetic and bustling lives around you while you stand in a frozen state?

The answer is the hands shaking you awake.

…

_ “Sybil, Sybil. Stop squirming and get up, for God’s sake!” _

The sweat on Sybil’s face seemingly raced each bead down her forehead, cheek bones, and off of her chin onto the pillow.

Her breathing never went into a steady pulse for sleep, but more of which if she were running. She was seemingly running from all she saw.

_ “Wake up!” _

Sybil bolted straight up, and she looked around, frantic as her eyes flickered across everything in the room.

Her duvet, her own hands, the wall, the bed, the floor, the ceiling…

And the loved one holding her shoulders, firmly, yet delicate, as was his gaze on her.

James.

“O-oh heeeyyyyyy! How you doooiiinnnn’?” Sybil said, snapping out of the spell of sleep and forcing a smile.

“Sybil…”

“Oh, heh, I wasn’t dreaming! Noooope! Nothing was going wrong, I’m perfectly fine!”

“Babe….”

Sybil sat straight up, and brought her knees to her chin.

“I’m perfectly alright, sure things, yknow, weren’t at a time but we are fine now and I’ve come to see that at its full exte-”

“ _ Sybil. _ ”

Sybil looked up at him, startled by the sudden tone, and started to have her figure crumble, clinging onto his shirt as the sweat from her palms and her liquid grief sinks into his clothes as she does.

James hugs her back, wrapping his arms around her little figure, putting his chin on her shoulder.

“Shhhh, shhhhh. Just… you’re a strong gal, the strongest I’ve met. I know ya can make it.” James said, cursing under his breath seeing her so distraught. “You’re okay. I love ya.”

…

The memory was surreal, the comfort warm, embracing the good and shielding from the bad, the warrior and the explorer. 

What would it take to take the two down?

…

I guess…. we may see in the near future. Catch it if you can, I’ll be waiting from the wings.

Until then,

_ Cthulhu Fhtagn~ _

  
  



End file.
